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“Who is
this guy?” Dakota asked.

“Kenneth Talley,” Blaine said, hurrying through
the produce section. “I hope I haven’t missed him.” One of his friends had
called with the rumor that Kenneth was in the store, and Blaine had rushed over
right away. He was just lucky that the friend of a friend of a friend had
happened to catch a glimpse. Kenneth was in town to film some video on location
around the local national park.

“Who’s Kenneth Talley?” Dakota managed to keep
pace with Blaine while still appearing to stroll nonchalantly.

“He’s a fitness instructor,” Blaine said. “He
has a series of workout videos and his own TV show. He’s mastered every martial
art. I heard his hands were registered as a lethal weapon. He has the most
incredible muscle definition I’ve ever seen.”

“Really.” There was a quirk of curiosity in
Dakota’s bored drawl. A great body could get his attention every time.

“His pecs are unbelievable. His abs are
perfectly cut. His thighs…” Blaine didn’t even know how to describe them.

Typical, for that to catch Dakota’s attention.
Marcus was the most notorious top at Dakota’s favorite porn company. “They were
lovers for almost two years.” Oh, god. Blaine skidded to a halt beside the
peanut butter. Kenneth Talley.

Dakota whistled, tilting his head to one side.
“Damn.”

Staring, Blaine swallowed drool. Six feet, two
inches of muscular, masculine perfection. Kenneth had military-short blond
hair. A light tan gave his skin a healthy glow. Jeans hugged his hard thighs
and showed off the perfect, taut curves of his ass. His casual green T-shirt
did nothing to hide his powerful chest or strong arms, and matched his eyes
perfectly.

“Marcus Underwood’s dick and that ass,” Dakota
said. “That would be Oscar-worthy material.”

“Kenneth Talley’s videos aren’t jack-off tapes,
they’re instructional fitness films,” Blaine whispered, still staring. He might
have masturbated to them once or twice, but he saw no reason to mention that to
Dakota.

“Don’t you dare!” He didn’t trust Dakota not
to do something embarrassing, say something mortifying, or end up taking Kenneth
home. He had no chance of going home with Kenneth himself, but he wasn’t about
to let Dakota fuck Kenneth, either.

“Hi,” Dakota said boldly, walking right over
with a smile.

Shit! Blaine scrambled after him. “You’re
dead to me,” he whispered as they approached Kenneth together.

“Kenneth, right?” Dakota asked, still smiling.
So charming. So full of shit.

Kenneth Talley smiled right back, at Dakota
first, then at Blaine, then at Dakota again. His smile showed off those dimples
that softened every torturous instruction of his rigorous workout routines, and
when he spoke, his voice had that familiar deep yet gentle sound that always
made Blaine sweat, whether exercising his entire body or just his right hand.
“Hi. Call me Ken.”

“I’m here to do some work,” Ken said with a
warmly polite yet puzzled smile. “Marcus is just fine. Have we met?”

“No, but I’m a big fan,” Dakota said with a big
smile. “Of both of your…bodies of work.”

“Thanks,” Ken said. “You should come down to
the shoot tomorrow, over at the park.”

“I was hoping to see you a little sooner than
that,” Dakota said. “What are you doing tonight?”

“I’m sure that he’s very busy,” Blaine said,
giving Dakota a quick, hard look, wanting to smack him. Blaine was not
going to let Dakota get balls-deep in Kenneth Talley. That ass was sacred.
There was no way that Dakota could appreciate it. Someone as amazing as Kenneth
Talley deserved better than being treated like a piece of meat.

“Blaine’s a huge fan,” Dakota said. “He just
loves getting in a good sweaty workout. I’m sure that he’d love to do it with
you. You’d probably have some great pointers for him.”

Why hadn’t he left Dakota behind? What was
wrong with him? Why hadn’t he learned? It was dangerous to have Dakota
anywhere near actual people. Especially anyone Blaine wanted to leave with a
good impression. “I’m sorry,” he said to Ken. “He didn’t get his shots this
week.”

“Maybe while he takes care of that, you could
spend some time with me,” Ken said. “I came in here to kill time before the
movie starts next door. After the movie, I’ll need a ride back to the hotel.”

“Blaine loves movies,” Dakota said. “Don’t
you, Blaine?”

Blaine stared at Ken. How many hours had he
spent gazing into Ken’s green eyes, and now Ken wanted to take him to the
movies?

“He’d just love to give you a ride,” Dakota
said. “To the hotel.”

“To the hotel,” Ken repeated, and gave Blaine a
sexy, private smile. “Come on, it starts in a few minutes.” He held out his
hand.

Ken’s hand was right there, waiting for his.
Ken wanted to be touched by him. Ken had invited him on a date? He was about
to go out with Kenneth Talley.

Blaine slid his hand into Ken’s and met those
green eyes again. He didn’t remember seeing anything else until they were
outside, standing in front of the movie theater.

“What do you want to see?” Ken asked.

“Whatever you wanted to see,” Blaine said. A
blank screen would be fine. He was on a date with Kenneth Talley. The hottest
man in America.

“I don’t even know what’s playing,” Ken said,
with a warm smile. “I just wanted to ask you out.”

Wow. This had to be a dream. Or a practical
joke. Or such a wildly wonderful moment that something tragic was about to
happen to balance it out. Blaine glanced up in case a piano was about to fall
on him.

“I know we just met, but I don’t know anyone
around here, and I’ve been kind of lonely, the past few days, by myself in the
hotel. We’ve been shooting all over the country for weeks now, and I’m going
out of my mind. Marcus is in the middle of some back-to-back filming, so he
hasn’t been able to come out and visit me.”

Marcus? “You’re back together?” Blaine asked.
That would be awesome. That would also be confusing, because he had the
impression that he and Ken were sort of on a date, but he’d been heavily
invested in Marcus and Ken’s relationship. A sex icon and the embodiment of
physical perfection, lovers? It was fantastic.

“Oh, no,” Ken said. “We’re just friends. Best
friends, I love him like crazy, but we aren’t lovers anymore.”

Damn. He shouldn’t have gotten his hopes up.
But who could be just friends with Marcus Underwood? Then again, who could be
just friends with Ken Talley? How could two men that hot be in the same room
and not have sex? Why was that even possible?

“So…”
Ken put an arm around his waist, gazing up at the marquee. Ken had the hardest
body that Blaine had ever had the pleasure of pressing against. The hand on
Blaine’s hip squeezed gently. “Do you want to see invading aliens, rogue FBI
agents, talking animals, or slapstick?”

At the
refreshment stand, Ken ordered a bottle of water. Blaine eyed the popcorn, but
ordered a fruit drink.

During the movie, Blaine paid more attention to
the warm sound of Ken’s happy laughter than to the plot.

After the movie, Ken signed a few autographs in
the lobby. Blaine wanted one, but didn’t want to embarrass himself by breaking
into fan behavior in the middle of a date. He’d automatically thrown away his
empty juice bottle, and Ken had the ticket stubs, so he was going to end up with
nothing to show for his night out with Kenneth Talley. Dakota was his only real
witness, and Dakota wasn’t exactly reliable. By the time Ken said good night,
Blaine was going to have no evidence that their date had ever happened.

Together, they walked to Blaine’s car. He
wished that he had something nicer than a two-year-old sedan, but Ken didn’t
seem to notice anything unworthy about it.

Once they were in the car, Blaine realized how
much space Ken filled. He wasn’t overly bulky, but he had a gorgeously powerful
build, much better than anyone else who’d ever been in the passenger seat.

On the way to Ken’s hotel, which was the
fanciest one in town, they talked about the workouts Ken was filming, and about
Blaine’s job, and about the national parks Ken used for locations, and about
Blaine’s hobbies and friends. Ken genuinely seemed interested in Blaine, his
desk job, and his vintage record collection. Either Ken was the biggest fake
Blaine had met, or truly a nice person who, for no obvious reason, liked him.

The Ken-as-a-fake theory made a lot more sense,
but those friendly green eyes and that warm, dimpled smile seemed honest.

Which led Blaine to wonder why. Why would Ken
pick him up, instead of anyone else in town? Dakota had been right beside him,
and sure, Dakota could be an asshole, but Dakota was also very hot. Ken must
have met someone else around town. Why was he the one Ken chose to take to the
movies?

Ken dated actual, infamous, porn stars.

Really good porn stars. Marcus Underwood had
been a legend since he’d shown up as Mark Wood in his very first role, nine
years ago, in Triple Penetration IV. That one was still a classic.

Pulling into a space and turning off the car,
Blaine wondered what to expect. He’d do anything Ken wanted. He was a little
afraid to touch Ken; he wasn’t used to being around anyone fantastically
gorgeous, and Ken was literally a wet dream come true for him. He couldn’t
possibly give head as well as Marcus, that was pretty much a given, and his dick
wasn’t overwhelming in its proportions like Marcus’, but he was willing and
eager to do his best. He’d been awed by Ken for years; he was ready to pay
homage in any way Ken preferred.

“Thanks for the ride.” Ken smiled at him,
squeezing his thigh. “You don’t have to go home right now, do you?”

Blaine was actually going to fuck Kenneth
Talley. He had to call Dakota. He had to get Ken to sign his dick. He had to
get proof of this moment. He was going to bury his dick in the perfect ass of
the hottest man in America.

Ken’s room was on the ground floor. When he
unlocked the door, he said, “Welcome to my,” and stopped talking.

Blaine looked into the room.

Marcus Underwood stood from the bed. “Who’s
he?”

This
couldn’t possibly be happening.

Blaine
wakened. His eyes opened to the sight of his own alarm clock and, beyond it,
his own bedroom wall.

A dream. It had been a dream.

Of course it had been a dream. Meeting a
celebrity, a fitness guru, in a grocery store? Suddenly being invited on a
date? Subsequently meeting a notorious porn star? And what would have happened
after that, they’d all pile into Ken’s bed together?

Kenneth Talley, like he’d really-

Whoa.

Blaine sat up.

“Morning,” Marcus said.

Oh. Holy. Fucking. God.

Last night. He and Ken and Marcus. Marcus had
come to surprise Ken. They’d talked. Marcus had been hungry, so they’d gone
out to pick up something to eat, and Ken hadn’t wanted to go back to the hotel,
was tired of hotels, wanted to be in someone’s actual home, so they’d come back
to Blaine’s house, and…

Oh. Holy. Fucking. God.

He’d had sex with Kenneth Talley and
Marcus Underwood.

Marcus relaxed to lounge on his back, arms
behind his head, one knee bent. Soft, his dick was larger than some men’s
erections. Blaine had sucked that dick last night. He’d - - Blaine’s hand
drifted back, gingerly, testing, awed.

“Ken went for a jog,” Marcus
said. “I would’ve gone with him, but I didn’t want you to wake up and think
we’d run out on you.” He smiled. “So to speak.”

“No, that’s,” he didn’t even know what he was
saying, “thanks.” He was out of his mind. He was hallucinating. He was
dreaming. He’d hit his head. He’d had sex with Kenneth Talley and Marcus
Underwood!

“I saw some doughnuts in the kitchen,” Marcus
said. “If we eat them before Ken gets back, we can escape a lecture.”

“Okay.” Marcus could have whatever he wanted.
Doughnuts. Sex. Blaine’s life savings. He was so much hotter in person, it
was ridiculous. Right there on Blaine’s bed, talking about breakfast foods, he
was smoldering. Smoldering. Blaine expected the sheets to catch fire.

Then Marcus moved. Sat up, got off of the bed,
reached for Blaine and pulled him over and up. By the time they were
eye-to-eye, Blaine was breathless and his dick was getting hard. He’d memorized
every line of Marcus’ body, he’d salivated over every trademark move, he’d
jacked off countless times to each detail of Marcus’ formidable sexual mastery.
And now…

“Right,” Blaine said, and let Marcus tug him into the kitchen. They could fuck
later. They could fuck later. This was the most elaborate dream, or the
most elaborate practical joke, ever.

Marcus
Underwood, porn star, was naked in Blaine’s kitchen. Eating chocolate doughnuts
and drinking milk and discussing how to season chicken.

Kenneth Talley, embodiment of masculine
perfection, had come back, had lectured them on their breakfast choices, and now
was naked in Blaine’s shower.

The phone rang. Marcus handed it to him and
walked off, calling Ken’s name.

“Hello,” Blaine said, watching Marcus’s ass.

“So, stud, how’d it go last night?” Dakota
asked. “Did you score with the big jock?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” Blaine
said, and hung up.

“Blaine!” Marcus called. “Ken wants to know if
you’re coming to the shoot today, and I want to know if there are any decent
clubs we can hit tonight.”

The shower stopped. “Blaine!” Ken called,
mocking Marcus. “Tell Marcus that too many drinks and too many clubs are not
part of a healthy lifestyle!”

Unable to resist, Blaine walked back to the
bathroom where, of course, Ken was damp and wore only a towel, and Marcus was
naked, posing casually against the sink. Marcus Underwood’s naked ass rested
against Blaine’s sink. He’d never wanted to kiss his own sink before.

“Live fast, die young, and leave a well-hung
corpse,” Marcus said with a trademark smirk.

“Live healthy, look twenty years younger than
you really are, and get laid forever,” Ken said. “Are you coming to the park?”
he asked Blaine. His body was muscular perfection, and Blaine couldn’t take
another second in the same room with it.

“Is this happening?” he asked. “Is this really
happening? I don’t know how I met you, I don’t know where you came from, I
walked into a grocery store last night and bam! Now I have a naked porn star in
my bathroom! And you want me to go to the set with you?!”

“Are you okay?” Ken asked, running his hand
over Blaine’s forehead. “I think you fucked him too hard,” he said to Marcus,
absently rubbing the back of Blaine’s neck. His grip was so firm, Blaine
instantly relaxed enough to want to drop to the floor. “You knocked his brain
loose.”

Blaine
had never been near a film crew before, but Marcus had, and he explained the
differences between shooting a workout video segment and shooting porn. When
Ken was in front of the cameras, they watched him flash his dimples and coax
viewers and demonstrate techniques that Blaine never would have tried without a
doctor standing by.

“I thought that you and Ken were just friends,”
Blaine said. Ken had such perfect muscle definition, he displayed muscles
Blaine didn’t realize anyone actually had.

“We are,” Marcus said. “That’s the way he
wants it.”

“But…” Wow. Were human beings that flexible?
“Last night… You seemed like more than friends,” Blaine said, not sure where
the boundaries were. None of this was any of his business to begin with.

“I figured out that he’ll let me into his bed
if there’s someone else in there with us,” Marcus said.

Oh. Blaine watched Ken twist, flex, punch, and
kick. “Does he know?”

“I told him that I’m in love with him. I asked
him to come back to me.” Marcus shrugged. His gaze never left Ken. “He
doesn’t trust me. I fuck for a living. It’s hard for him to deal with. I
wouldn’t love him if it weren’t hard for him.”

Marcus was in love with Ken, and the romantic
in Blaine fluttered about ecstatically. It was almost too perfect: Marcus
triumphed over sex but struggled with love. Blaine watched him watch Ken. “If
you love him… If it’s only your job, then it’s work, it doesn’t mean anything.”

“I explained that. Logically, he understands
it. Emotionally, it’s too much for him to accept.”

“He’s very…” Blaine wasn’t sure how to
describe it. Someone that physically perfect should have been grossly
narcissistic, but Ken was humble, and nice.

“He’s a good person,” Marcus said. “There
isn’t a jaded bone in his body. That’s why I love him. Part of why. I kept
telling myself that I’d get out of the industry before I became cynical and
bitter. I didn’t realize that I was jaded before I ever got in.”

“Yes.” Marcus smiled briefly. A real smile,
not a sexual smirk. A soft, happy smile. Blaine had seen hours and hours of
footage of Marcus Underwood, and he’d never been more beautiful than in that
moment. “I’m quitting. This is my last year.”

Marcus? Quitting? Millions of fans
would be devastated. Blaine would be devastated. No more movies? No more
Marcus? No more patented moves? No more of that fabulous dick?

He was abandoning his career for the man that
he loved.

Marcus was in love with Ken. Ken was in love
with Marcus. Marcus was willing to step away from fame and give up his career
to be with Ken. It was the most stunningly romantic gesture that Blaine had
ever witnessed. His heart fluttered even more wildly, and he was even more
grateful now that he’d shared last night with them, that he’d been given the
gift of not only having had sex with two cultural icons, but also at having been
allowed to witness this stage of their relationship. There was no way he could
go home with them again tonight. They needed to be alone, together.

“All of your fans will miss you,” Blaine said.
“You have no idea how much.”

“I haven’t told Ken yet,” Marcus said. “I
don’t know how. He’s always been supportive of my career, he’s always
encouraged me and pushed me to do better. It’s the only thing keeping us apart,
and he’s still so proud of me for it.” He smiled at Blaine. “How could I not
love him?”

“He wouldn’t want you to quit?” Blaine asked.

“No, he wouldn’t. But I have to,” Marcus said,
his gaze inevitably turning back to Ken. “I know how stupid it looks to
everyone else. Giving up my career for some guy. Choosing one man over getting
to fuck anyone I want.”

Since it was Marcus, that “anyone” was literal.

“But I love him,” Marcus said. “I’d choose him
over any other possibility in the world. I’ve had my time in the industry.
I’ve made my mark, I’ve accomplished everything I can. Now I want to do this.
I want to be with him.”

He’d seen Marcus fuck countless men. He’d seen
Marcus’ body from every possible angle. He’d explored what were purported to be
Marcus’ sexual fantasies. But he’d never known that Marcus was romantic. That
Marcus wasn’t just a sex machine; Marcus was a person. A human being. A human
being in love.

“You should tell him,” Blaine said. “You
should tell him tonight.”

“He’d
tell me not to make sacrifices for him,” Marcus said. There was that smile
again. That simple glimpse of love and happiness was more powerful than any
forceful thrust. “I’ll have to explain to him that it’s not a sacrifice at
all.”

That
night, having left Ken and Marcus in Ken’s hotel room to their private
conversation, Blaine went home. He checked the mail, slid a TV dinner into the
microwave, and answered the phone.